October Hands
by nonbinarybead
Summary: Inspired by the "Angst" theme during Style Week 2018.


**A/N: Hi everyone! This is just a little somethin' for Style Week 2018. The following story is a result of the Day Four "Angst" theme. Enjoy!**

 **Love,**

 **Kyle, Your Local Garbage Gay**

He opened the door and followed her onto the porch. She looked out over the acres of grass with a deep, contemplative sigh. The October winds had placed thin layers of frost on the orange leaves of the nearby trees.

"What's wrong?" He put a hand on her thin shoulder.

"I just…" She inhaled suddenly but softly. "It's nothing." Exhale. Shining black tendrils of hair curled over her upper back. He stepped forward a little so he could see her face.

"You can tell me," he said. "You can tell me anything."

"Can I?" She gently brushed off the hand on her shoulder. She turned to him and stuck her thumbs under the straps of her green Kate Spade backpack. "If I text you that I got back to my dorm safely, will you even care?"

"Of course I will, babe." Stan Marsh cupped the palm of his hand on his girlfriend's cheek, "Seriously, what's wrong? I thought we had a fun weekend."

Wendy Testaburger placed her hand over Stan's. Her eyes were dull and tired. "It didn't seem like you were even really here this weekend."

"What do you mean? We did _everything_ ," he moved their hands down and clasped both of hers with his, "And I was definitely here for it." Wendy just shook her head again. She let go of Stan's hands and started walking toward her Prius. "Jesus Christ," he followed her, "Wendy, wait, don't leave all upset like this. I'd hate for you to drive angry."

Wendy opened the driver's side door and tossed her backpack in. She looked at him and ran and hand through her hair, stopping at the nape of her neck. Staring down at the gravel, she said, "I'm not angry. I'm just… I'm just sad, I guess. Everytime we're together, you look…"

"What?"

"No…"

"I look what? Just spit it out, Wendy."

"Guilty."

Stan, in a self-conscious reflex, crossed his arms, "I do?"

"Yes. You do. Especially right now." She got in and started the ignition. Stan approached the car and she shut the door. He peered in through the window with a furrowed brow. Another long, sorrowful sigh and she rolled down the window. She looked up at him with wet eyes. "Stan, I don't know what's going on with you, but whatever it is, _I feel it._ Whenever I see you, call you, or get a message from you… I just feel it. And it becomes more apparent everyday that it's something that I can't help you with."

"Wendy-"

"No, I'm sorry. I know that this makes me a horrible person because it's your birthday and everything, but I think this is it for us."

Stan put his hands on the bottom of the window frame, "Are you serious?"

Wendy swallowed hard and nodded slowly. "I won't be coming back, Stan."

He stared at her small, bony face. All the years of movie dates, school dances, closeted make-outs disintegrated like abandoned buildings in front of him, rotting from the inside out. It's not like she hadn't broken up with him before, but that was so long ago. This had been the longest stretch of time of them being together with no breaks.

Sort of.

But somehow, some way, a small and pure sense of relief pinned into his heart like the force of a syringe. He let go of the car and backed away slightly.

"Wendy?"

"Yes, Stan?"

"Just do me one favor?"

"What's that?"

"Text me when you get back to your dorm, okay? Please."

"I will. And Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Wendy. Don't ever be sorry."

And with that, Wendy rolled the window back up, and drove onto the dirt road and out of Tegridy Farms forever.

...

Stan stood in the kitchen, quietly and wavering, listening to the rhythmic ticking of the red wall clock.

 _Tick, tock…_

They were over.

 _Tick, tock…_

It was done.

 _Tick, tock…_

Finally.

With a shaking hand, he filled a coffee pot with tap water. Kyle would be there soon.

...

Just a half hour later, Kyle Broflovski knocked on the door with a birthday card and gift tucked under his arm. He pursed his lips and whistled slightly as he waited. The adrenaline boost he just experienced was now starting to calm down. On the way over, he spotted Wendy's car cruising down from across an intersection. Immediately, he drove off into a liquor store parking lot and ducked down, hoping she wouldn't recognize his red and rusting Escort.

Of course, she didn't. But paranoia ate away at him and he waited ten minutes just to be sure.

When he finally popped back up, he remembered that he had his windows tinted awhile ago for this very reason. He face-palmed himself and pulled out of the parking lot.

Now he was standing on the Marsh's porch. Everyone else in Stan's family had gone to visit family in Tennessee somewhere, and he asked Kyle to come as soon as Wendy left. Kyle wished he could pretend that he didn't know why, but it was bullshit. He knew. It was the same reason every time.

Stan opened the door to see his secret lover, shifting uncomfortably on the porch. "You know you can just come in, right? You don't have to knock."

"I'll feel weird if I don't knock."

Stan smiled and stepped aside, allowing Kyle to walk in. Kyle put the gift on a nearby chair but held onto the card. Stan closed the door behind them.

"I got you something, but I really, really would appreciate it if you could read the card first. Then you can unwrap the gift."

Stan pulled Kyle away from the living room and shoved him into the front door, causing a nearby picture to fall off the wall.

"Stan!"

"Can I just unwrap you?" Kyle didn't answer, but Stan wasn't expecting one. With an open mouth, he enveloped him in a long, warm, and passionate kiss. Kyle dropped the card on the floor and wrapped his arms around Stan's shoulders. They parted for a moment. "I missed you."

Stan's hands traveled up to his partner's jaw as he kissed him again, slightly biting the lower lip. He worked his way down, planting soft kisses on his neck.

"I missed you too," Kyle said in between heavy breaths. He grabbed a handful of Stan's hair, pulling his head back. Stan looked up at him with a smirk, his eyes half-lidded. Kyle loved it when he looked like this.

"That hurts, Kyle," he said in a low, tantalizing tone.

"I know," Kyle returned the tone.

In response, Stan dived down and bit Kyle squarely on the neck as hard as he could without breaking the skin. Kyle yelped. His nails dug into Stan's scalp.

"Sorry, not sorry," Stan whispered, and gave a wet kiss to the spot he had just bitten. He unzipped Kyle's jacket and started kissing his collarbone. "How long has it been?"

"Five days," Kyle moaned.

Crouching down, Stan reached behind Kyle's legs and hoisted him up against the door. He gently pushed himself into Kyle's groin, feeling that he was already hard underneath his jeans. "It feels like it's been five years."

"Mmm," Kyle moaned again.

"I really wanna make love to you," Stan said and kissed him again.

Kyle pulled away. "What? You've never said _that_ before."

"Yes, I have."

"No, you always say you want to _fuck_ me. What's with the sudden change in diction, Stan?"

"Oh, shut up," Stan lowered Kyle back down, ripped off his jacket, grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him around so that Kyle's back was facing the kitchen.

"What the fuck?" Kyle took a few steps back. Stan pushed down on his shoulders and they both gently came down to the hardwood floor. "Oh," Kyle said with an amused smile, "I see." He reached for Stan's belt, fumbling with the metal clasp.

"You're pretty eager," Stan grinned at his best friend. His best friend that's he had loved his whole life.

"Well, it is your birthday," Kyle said. There was a loud clanging sound as he tossed the belt across the room. Stan unzipped Kyle's jeans and snuck his hand inside. Kyle's face flushed and his back arched as Stan rubbed him. "I just said that it's _your_ birthday," he said breathily.

"But I love seeing that look on your face," Stan replied, "It's really cute… and hot. Sometimes your eyes roll to the back of your head."

"They do?"

"Yeah, it really fucking turns me on," Stan leaned down and opened Kyle's mouth with his, continuing to work him down under. Kyle's moans vibrated into his mouth, sending warm and fluid sensations up and down his spine. "That's it, I can't take it anymore. I want you. Now."

"Then have me," Kyle said. Stan kissed him once more.

...

Sometime later, they were still on the floor, Stan's sweating head resting on Kyle's chest. Their bare feet and legs intertwined on the worn out, red rug. Kyle looked up at the high ceiling. His eyes began to blur.

He had done the thing he feared he would do. Memories of nightmare after nightmare about his very thing danced in his mind- and now it was his reality.

They had been going at it for awhile, and were almost done. Stan was making "The Face."

"I'm gonna come," he cried hoarsely.

"Okay," Kyle panted. He moved his hands down Stan's backside, "Do it." He didn't need Kyle to tell him twice. Stan's arms trembled and he began losing his balance.

"Kyle…" he moaned.

Suddenly, an intense flood of passion filled Kyle's chest, and he just couldn't help himself:

"I love you."

Stan stared down at him, unable to give a verbal response before collapsing; weak from the lovemaking. And he was still laying there with no words.

Kyle wiped away a few tears with the back of his wrist. Fucking up seemed to be his cup of tea, and this was one big sip.

Stan perked his head up when he heard the sniffling.

"What's wrong?" He stroked Kyle's hair. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

Stan frowned. He inched a little closer to his lover's face, "What's going on, Kyle?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you crying?"

Kyle sucked in his breath. He couldn't look at Stan. He concentrated on a dark water stain on the ceiling while he spoke. "You know that I drive over an hour to come and see you? And you never come out to see me."

"Well, I mean, it's a bit easier this way. It's quieter out here… We have privacy."

Kyle scoffed, "Privacy."

"What?"

"What exactly does that word mean to you?"

Stan chewed on his lip anxiously. "Why don't you tell me what _you_ think that I think it means. This seems to be where this conversation is heading."

"Fine," said Kyle, "I think that you're scared of being out in public with me because you don't want anyone to suspect that you're fucking a dude."

"Ugh, Kyle, we hang out in public all the time-"

"Yeah, and we have to _pretend_ that I'm not your fucking side dish."

"I don't think of you as 'side dish,' Kyle… You know you mean way more to me than that."

"Just admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That you're ashamed of me."

"Never."

"Oh, great. So you just won't say it out loud."

"Hey," Stan moved up and grabbed Kyle's face, turning it toward him, "Hey, I'm not admitting it because it's not true." Coldy, Kyle pushed Stan away and sat up. He watched as Kyle got up and walked to various spots in the room where his clothes were and started dressing again. He threw Stan's boxers at him. "What's your problem now? How come you keep getting angry with me? I mean, fuck, this happens everytime you come over now."

"Then why do you keep inviting me over, then?"

"Why do you keep coming over? It's obvious we both know how it ends up. We fuck, and then you get mad at me, and I say that I'm sorry, for whatever I did because I don't know, and then you go home with leftover feelings and then the cycle starts over again."

"I can't keep doing this with you, Stan," Kyle said quietly, embracing himself.

Stan jumped up, snapping his boxers in place, "Why not? Huh? Why now?"

"Because it's fucking with my mind, Stan!" Kyle yelled. He threw his shaking hands outward, crying. "I can't eat, I can't concentrate, I constantly have nightmares that Wendy is going to show up in my room with a god damn box cutter… but worse, I can't stop thinking about where this is going. How long am I gonna be waiting around, Stan? H-How much longer do you think this will last? Am I just supposed to hang around even after you and Wendy get married? How is _that_ going to work? Every time I look at you, my heart breaks because even though I have you constantly, I'll never… I'll never. Fully. _Have_ you."

Stan said nothing. He just stared, defeated, at his childhood friend. A trembling Kyle plopped down onto a nearby couch and put his face in his hands.

"Kyle…" he said softly. He got down on his knees in front of Kyle and put his hands on his thighs. "Kyle," he repeated. A strong gust of wind rattled the window pane behind them. Stan gingerly took one of Kyle's hands and kissed it. He ran his thumbs over the knuckles. "I'm sorry."

Kyle looked at Stan's face, alight with the soft glow of light coming through the blinds. "I don't know what else to say to you."

"You don't have to say anything, I get it. I didn't realize how much this was messing you up… I didn't think you loved me," Stan admitted.

"Of course I do. Or else I wouldn't be coming here as much as I do."

Stan studied Kyle's tear-stained face. He'd never seen him like this before. It was genuine. He could feel it in his heart that it was genuine.

"I have something to tell you, Kyle."

"What?"

"Wendy actually broke up with me today."

"Oh… I'm sorry, Stan."

Despite the heavy mood in the room, Stan smiled, "You _really_ don't need to be sorry. It was about time, anyway."

"Did she find out about us?"

Stan shook his head. "No, and she doesn't need to know either. Besides that, we just grew apart. It's okay."

"I think she deserves to know the truth, Stan."

"The _truth_ is that we weren't compatible. That's all there is to it. She doesn't need to go the rest of her life wondering what's wrong with her just because her ex-boyfriend was in love with someone else. We'll just leave it."

"What?"

"What?"

"What did you say?"

"That we're just going to leave it?"

"No, I mean-" Kyle blinked hard, "I'm sorry, did you say that you're in love with me?"

Stan smiled again, but a bit wider, "Yeah, I love you. I really, really do."

"You actually mean that?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't keep inviting you over if I didn't," he stood up and sat down next to him. "I'm sorry that you felt like I was stringing you along. I mean, I kinda was, but I really didn't want to."

"It's okay…"

"No, Kyle, because truthfully, whenever I see you, I feel like I'm at home. Like, I'm comfortable. Calm. And I kept ignoring those feelings."

Kyle leaned his head back against the cushion and looked over at the still boxer-clad Stan, "I can't give you the kind of relationship a girl can."

"I don't want a relationship with a girl. I want one with you."

He wanted to lean in and kiss Kyle again, but his phone started buzzing. With a sigh, he walked over to the coffee table. It was the text from Wendy saying that she made it back to campus safely. Kyle walked behind him and picked up the birthday card that he dropped. He folded it and shoved it in his pocket. Everything in that card had already been spoken. The words still clung to the air. Stan responded quickly, put the phone back down and turned around to face Kyle.

"So, Kyle."

"So, Stan."

"What do we do now?"

"I think that's for you to decide. It's your big day."

"I'm deciding on you," he pulled Kyle over and tucked him into a sweet, kind kiss.


End file.
